NationStates Jolt Archive

36km off the Hogsweatian shore, HS Capital Hill

Watchman Sergei Bonalov blinked and took a sip of his coffee again. It wasn't particularly cold, not at this time of the year - but it was tiring. He looked out into the distance, seeing only the dark twilight sky and the stars backed against it, shining so brightly so many millions of miles away. Bringing the cup up to his mouth, his formerly closed eyes awoke with vigour. There it was. The first Hogsweatian in a century to look upon it. The Promised Land. The Holy Land. The Motherland. A small strip of dark green, barely visible in the night, but it was it. He could tell, because as the vessel moved closer it expanded. No hills, no mountains, no forests. It was flat.

'CAPTAAAAIN!' he screamed. A minute later, First Admiral Frunze was eagerly clambering the ladder to the watch tower. From the high position, he could see it too. The land that no Hogsweatian had inhabitated for nigh on a hundred years. Their coalition, made up of native Hive Hogsweatians who had abandoned their floating metal hulks was about to land on the Promised Land, the Land that by the winds and the stars and the moon had called to them to return. He felt a hot tear drip down his cheek, and another, and yet another, and below the flapping Hogsweatian flag, the two men, the first to set eyes on their motherland for a hundred years.

'How does it feel, Sergei?' he asked, slowly.

'I don't know.' Sergei replied as the tears dripped down his face from his watering eyes.

Reconciliation, sweet reconciliation.

The next day

The ten hovercraft chugged towards the land where they were destined. Several minutes later they had halted their advance, and sat lifelessly on the sand. The only thing that could be heard was the humming of the vertical hover engines. A shuffle, and First Admiral Frunze stood up and surveyed what was there. He stared long and hard into the distance and could see nothing but flat plainlands. Before the ... incident ... there had been mountains, forests, snow, bounding animals, and virtous peace, he had read. There was nothing. Just silence.

'It's good to be back.' he said.

Within the space of a few hours, boats and helicopters had brought in people, and large hovercraft had transported several large prefab houses. A small village had been erected, consisting of mainly houses, with a communications building. Scouts had been sent out to get further information on the terrain - after advancing a hundred kilometres in jeeps and light helicopters, small woodlands had been discovered, of mostly pine or oak. Settlements had also been found - abandoned, the inhabitants most likely dead from the results of the massive radioactive assault or the initial explosions. Even better, one or two of natural resources, mostly limestone, had been discovered and most importantly, a small stream of running water had been tried. The proper equipment had not yet been brought in, but later in the week the water would be tested. The settlement began to expand – it could now house a thousand people and large water and food reserves allowed them to live fairly comfortably.

20 days later…

The settlement was even larger, and it had expanded ontop of a manmade hill which had been created from dug up earth. Very little signs of radiation were active – up to a level were lead piping would be more dangerous. Even better, the natural water supplies were drinkable. They required some purification, but they were fully drinkable. On top of the manmade hill, a small building with the Hogsweatian flag flapping atop it had been laid from pure limestone dragged in from the nearby quarries, and it would be completed in about a month or so. The settlement was housing a small population of 20,000 and was expanding by the day. Many people from the ships off the coast came in every day to help with the work, but went back to their ships to sleep and rest. The weather was peaceful, and as such, the prefab houses did their job sufficiently. As more limestone was dragged in from large trucks, more stone houses were laid and they were indeed quite comfortable. The rebuilding of a civilisation was a long process that would take decades to properly begin, but it was already in full swing.

60 days later

Huge progress had been made. The settlement, now named Dev Hogevra, was bustling with a hundred thousand currently occupying. Fresh water was being piped in, a school had been constructed, a surgery had been created by parts from a hospital ship, and more and more houses were being constructed with the limestone. Long range communications had been set up and an airstrip was being built. Each house proudly flew the new Hogsweatian flag as a sign of their new independence. The two blue stars represented the future and past, and the two blue strips represented new and old and the white background the change between the two. National government had been set up, but only to a small degree, and ownership was given depending on arrival – for example, the first aboard had the first houses, and also the first limestone houses, and as new was built, people moved on to allow space in their old houses for others. Food was from supplies and was being distributed by need, and small farms for potatoes had been setup. Animals had been brought in from the ships and meats like beef and pork and chicken were readily available to eat alongside bread or potatoes.

The most prominent discovery, however, was of the old capital Dorsalgrad. It wasn’t just a political discovery – it was cultural too. For years Hogsweatians had read about their capital and its glorious history.

Lieutenant Don Faretza gasped in awe as his jeep, part of a six vehicle convoy, entered the city past the derelict sign saying ‘WELCOME TO DORSALGRAD – POPULATION 140 MILLION’ He raised a brow as some hermit survivor had crossed out the 1 and the 4 after the eight 18 1 megaton warheads smashed into the city. Very little was left – it had stopped smoking some time ago, but only the largest buildings survived. He could see the building of the Supreme Soviet, the People's Palace, the Defence Building.. the huge funnels of the Dorsalgrad Smeltery, and beyond them many many derelict tower building. The lieutenant was only twenty, and he felt a deep and lasting satisfaction and pride. Faretza halted the column to take a look down the long, long highway that stretched almost 10 lanes wide. He gasped again as, raising his binoculars, he made out the 100 metre tall statue of Comrade Dorsal, the most famous Hogsweatian leader, facing right at him. Faretza stopped and was silent.

‘Sir?’ one of his subordinates asked.

‘We are facing the statue of great Comrade Dorsal, the founder of the Soviet Union, the father of the Motherland.’ Faretza replied.

The entire platoon stopped and saluted. Ten kilometres away, the great rusted eyes of the great Comrade Leader looked eerily down upon them with an expression set in stone. They had returned.

[OOC: To be continued tommorow when I'm less tired!]

Several Months Later

The new Hogsweatian Republic now consisted of three settlements - Dev Hogevra, Teruvela, and Dorsalgrad, which all stretched alongside the coast. Dev Hogevra was a bustling fishing town which had grown to almost twice its old population. The old prefabs were being taken down and salvaged for material - batteries brought in from the large ships provided a large source of energy from the town and twelve large wind turbines gave an added bump to the power. There was electricity, lots of job opportunities, and plenty of food. There was no crime, no corruption.The new land looked promising. The new interim Government of Hogsweat - made up of military officials and some old politicians, alongside economic personnel and the like, had set up new rules and laws, based off old Hogsweatian law, and had established a flat currency called the Dorsalpound backed up by some old Hogsweatian gold transported to Praetonia. before the fall of the country. Trade between the smaller settlement of Teruvela flourished, mostly lumber and fish. Transport between the two was mostly by scheduled truck as literally noone owned private transport.

Meanwhile, Dorsalgrad was the site of a major military exploration. Helicopters, jeeps, and trucks all probed the site looking for some place to settle, and if they could find it, some place of reason. Somewhere to explain what happened and more importantly, why. Although very few housing sites remained, apartment buildings on the inside of town were being renovated in huge operations to provide lush housing for the new population of Hogsweatia in the cultural capital.

Over the following weeks and the political announcement by General Dytrenov, many many Hogsweatian citizens from nations that offered refugees a place to live; Der Angst, Skinny87, Praetonia, Sarzonia, MassPwnage, DontPissUsOff, scores of other nations, would be moving back to support the New Republic. In foreign countries, Hogsweatian nationals approached governments asking for monetary and economic support, and attempts at foreign TV, radio, and newspaper adverts were made in certain nations trying to persuade people to help in whatever way they could. The airport at Dev Hogevra was expanded and several working (though old) planes were found at Dorsalgrad. With training from Praetonian military specialists, the Hogsweatian Airforce [HAF], consisting of eight Merlin E101s, four Chinooks, and eight Bucaneers with four thousand personnel was set up under the Hogsweatian Defence Force - alongside the two army brigades and a pair of frigates and ten hovercraft.

The expanded airport at Dev Hogevra had four hangars and a long runway capable of taking Boeing 737 sized aircraft. Helicopter pads connected to roads that led into Dev Hogevra and the Teruvela settlements were used to ship in heavy equipment like vehicles from the offshore tankers and transport ships.

The political statement was broadcast worldwide and pamphlets with the speech written on it and further information were handed out on streets worldwide. Within the first two hours of the proclamation, over 350,000 had been printed and distributed (to what success varied on how pro-Hogsweat the nations were)

Political Statement
Attention, people of the world,
My name is General Dytrenov, and I speak on behalf of the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat. For several months our people have been recolonising the Promised Land - our Motherland that has been repairing itself naturally for a century. Our budding nation with a population of 350,000 calls any foreigner of Hogsweatian descent to return to the Motherland to assist in the reform of our state. The flourishing Republic opens its arms to our comrades who will return. There is plenty of high quality food, there is no crime, our people do not bicker. Any Hogsweatian arriving at our nation, poor or rich, black or white, jew or muslim, will be treated the same and will have the same expected of them, that is, to work hard and to help others.

To the international community, we request military assistance in the form of decommissioned technology and weapons, civic assistance in the form of electrical goods and vehicles and farming equipment, and also in the form of water and food supplies.

We are willing to take ambassadors and form small political embassies with nations.

Parliament House, Dowland City

The sun was slowly creeping over the horizon, flooding the city with its warm rays and signalling the beginning of another day. As he watched the rays slowly fill his office and replace the harsh artificial light from his desk lamp and overhead fixtures with natural light, Alexander smiled grimly. If he were a civilian, he wouldn't even be up for a few more hours; even in the military, you got the odd day off to sleep. The duties of head of state and head of government combined, however, ruthlessly stole what little time for sleep he had. He grinned again and picked up the mug sitting at his side, taking a sip from the liquid inside. He grimaced and screwed up his face as he tasted cold tea, and placed the mug back down on his desk. He must be getting absent-minded; he had filled the mug up last night, late if he remembered correctly. He looked back at the desk and the ever-present stack of red boxes and beige-coloured files, and made an executive decision; he needed another cup of tea before facing that horrendous pile.

He got up from the desk, stretching his legs and working the sore and tired muscles until they gave some resemblence of working. He dusted at an imaginary speck of dirt on his crumpled suit for a moment, then walked to the large double-doors of the office and opened one. He walked through onto the vile red carpet that he detested so much and walked into the interior of Parliament House. He nodded to the agents standing outside the office, stopped to enquire how they were, chatted to them for a minute. He walked away slightly more cheerful than before; he liked to be friendly and chat with as many agents and officials as he could. He found them easier to talk to than the foreign diplomats and sycophants that so often scurried round him. He walked into the small kitchen set next to his office, accompanied by the agents.

He put the kettle on as he entered the kitchen and washed out his cup. It was an odd set-up, he thought as the kettle boiled. No other head of state had such an informal arrangement, and certainly no kitchen next to their office, but he had insisted on it when they had built the complex; he hated having people wait on him and doing the most menial of chorses. They had entrusted him with ruling the country and a nuclear arsenal that could destroy the world, yet they had wanted him to have a secretary to make him a cup of tea; the world was insane. Kettle boiled, he poured in the hot water, stirred in milk and sugar and sipped from the mug. The hot liquid poured down his throat and he felt instantly refreshed. Fortunately no-one had commented on the kitchen; it was just one of his eccentricities his staff tolerated. Why, he thought as he walked out of the kitchen and moved back towards his office, they didn't even mention the ratty brown slippers he always wore around the complex.

Happily refreshed and ready to resume working, Alexander moved past the agents and had just made it to his office doors when he noticed the newspaper another agent was reading. He put the mug of tea down on a table and asked for the paper. The agent nodded and handed it to him. Alexander noted that it was the Daily Herald, but was far more interested in the headline emblazoned on the front page:

HOGSWEAT RETURNS
Hogsweatian Republic refounded; Hogsweatians migrate to new nation

Report by Dan Hatcjak:

Earlier this morning, one of the most shocking and surprising events ever in the history of Haven, and perhaps even the world occured. A radio transmission, which has been authenticated by experts, was made late last night by one General Dytrenov, apparent head of state or spokesman for the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat. In the short transmission, the General announced the re-formation of the nation and caled upon all Hogsweatian refugees and expatriates to return to the Motherland and help repopulate the country more than one hundred years after the disastrous nuclear accident that destroyed the nation...

Alexander thanked the agent and handed the paper back absentmindedly, thoughts rushing through his head. He wondered why he had not been informed of the stunning new revelation as he entered the office and shut the door behind him. He rifled through the red boxes and countless files and quickly found a folder entitled Hogsweat Situation Report and flicked through it, absorbing the scant information within it. Two minutes after that, he was drafting an official reply to the official statement by the General, hand shaking slightly as he did so:

From: King Alexander I, Monarch of the Grand Monarchy of Skinny87
TO:General Dytrenov, New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat

It is with great joy that I write this statement and officially acknowledge the existence of your country and government. It was a tragic day when Hogsweat was destroyed by nuclear fire, a day that has gone down as one of the worst in this nations history; we lost a dear friend and ally. I hope that our two countries can again extend the olive branch of peace and become the firm allies that we once were.

To this end, not only would I like to be the first to offer an Embassy exchange with your glorious country, but I will extend the hand of friendship as far as it may go between us. As of this statement, all transport between this country and yours will be free of charge, and all expatriates of Hogsweat may travel back to their motherland without cost. I also authorise the release of any and all military equipment that your country may need for the defense of its borders and soverignty, as well as any civilian aid that you may request. I will personally ensure that the first transports of medical and farming supplies be shipped off this very evening, and other convoys full of civil and housing supplies to be sent forthwith.

Long may the new Hogsweat exist! To a new period of friendship and glory!

Alexander I

TO: General Dytrenov, New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat
FROM: Office of Zachary Alexander IV Minister of Foreign Affairs
SUBJECT: Embassy/Consulate Exchange

The Dominion of Mandalore Prime hereby requests an embassy exchange be conducted between our nation & Hogsweatia. If this offer is accepted, we shall require a large embassy. As my people like space. If need be we can build our own.

The Dominion of Mandalore Prime has heard many great things about your state, and we have come to develop a favorable view of it. Our Ambassador & His Personal Coregn along with a staff of 50 Attachés, as well as a Demi-Company of 25 Mandalorian ARC Troopers shall accompany them. While on the premises, they will be armed with either concealed handguns & SMG's or assault rifles. In addition, they will be bringing along six modified SUV's/HumVee’s & Two Modified APC's. (Never know what kind of Problems may arise.) We believe in Preparation. The above APC's will remain on Sovereign Embassy soil at all times.

One Ambassador & His Coregn
Fifty Attaché’s
Five Modified SUV's/HumVee's
Two APC's
One Helipad
One Blackhawk Helicopter (armed)
Twenty-Five Mandalorian ARC Troopers

Yours Truly,
Zachary Alexander IV
Foreign Minister of Mandalore Prime
Chief of Staff for the Coalition Armed Forces

================

Our Regional Parliament has agreed to help your fledgling nation with whatever aid it needs...

Marcus Jones was annoyed, and letting the world know it. "What the hell's this about, Hiro? I've not even had a bloody bath! It's a Sunday! It's... oh, cheers love." His anger slipped out of gear entirely as his wife, Empress Lucy, brought him a rather large mug of tea.

"Actually dear, it's a Monday." She patted him mockingly on the head.

"It is?"

"Yep."

"Oh. Well, the principle stands, dammit," he replied, but without rancour. Lucy smiled as she left the room. "Bloody hell," Marcus muttered as he stared humbly into the mug, "I'm a lucky guy."

Hiirako Tongato dumped a newspaper on the Emperor's desk. "Perhaps not as lucky as that, Marc."

The Island Times, it seemed, contained on its third page an advertisement placed by the "New Government of Hogsweat", calling upon those who had been displaced by said nation's untimely (if spectacular) destruction to "return to their new land."

"I couldn't be more delighted for them. How many Hogs do we ahve here, anyway?"

"At the last count, a population of around 35,000. They moved mainly into the coastal area; lots of them are in villages, but there's a whole area of Port Jacob called Little Dorsalgrad which is, unsurprisingly, filled with them."

"Have they ever caused any problems?"

"Not a thing. On the whole they've been exceptionally quiet, industrious and law-abiding. Not the sort of people we want to lose, really." Tongato sat heavily opposite his leader.

"Hm. We can hardly refuse them the right to go back, y'know."

"No, I know. Then again, some of them might well want to stay. I've already prepared the usual waffling note for the Hoggies while we sort something out here; shall I put its delivery in hand?"

Marcus considered the question carefully; however, before had had had much time to do so, Lucy drifted into the room again.

"Why not send it off to them, but only when we've got a plebiscite organised?" she asked brightly.

"Eh?"

"Well, that way we'll know what these people want to do anyway by the time anything can be sorted out anyway. Governments always take ages to get anything done, after all."

"Slow by your standards, you outstanding chemist you." Marcus reached up and gently pulled her head down to his, kissing her quickly. "You're just too used to seeing things go bang, that's your trouble!" Lucy let out a gunshot of laughter and disappeared again.

"She has a point, Marc," Tongato interjected with a grin. "Governments do tend to move only a little faster than tectonic plates."

"All right, then, put it in hand. What's the worst that can happen, anyway?" Marcus rose, revealing that, beneath his shirt, he was in fact wearing only his boxers. "Um... sorry."

Tongato's grin broadened. "Worry ye not, Marcus. Not the first time I've seen you looking the worse for wear, after all." The two men exchanged parting pleasantries, and Marcus went to look for his wife.

Sir,
It has come to my attention that your people have rediscovered their ancestral home of Hogsweat. This is, obviously, an occasion of great joy for your people, both near and far, and we can understand fully your obviosu wish to bring all of your people under your new banner as swiftly and peacefully as possible, including those presently resident in the Imperium.

However, we should not like to force any former Hogsweatians living in DPUO to depart, in order to comply with your (most noble) wishes. Therefore, there has been put in hand a plebiscite, to allow us to determine the wishes of those Hogsweatians living within the Imperium's borders as regards this matter. Once this has been completed, we will of course be happy to provide any assistance requisite for their safe and swift departure to your shores.

I hope that I have been of assistance to you in this matter, and look forward to hearing from you in the future.

Haruko Shiota, Foreign Minister.

Official Announcement of the United States Government

We are glad to see the Hogsweatian government restored. While in the past, we have not been exactly at best relations with Hogsweat, we hope that this may change now. As a show of good will, we would like to offer you humanitarian aid in the form of a variety of weapons and equipment as detailed below. We hope that these devices may prove useful in the defense of Hogsweat in the future. They are as follows:

1.We have in our posesssion forty million of AK-100 series assault rifles and similar small arms, captured during the surrender of the Antanjylian army to the United States invasion forces in Antanjyl. These will be transferred to Hogsweatian hands as soon as you wish.
2.We possess a stockpile of DAA1 vehicles, 10,000 in number, that we wish to transfer to your possession as well. After that, you may freely use the open-domain blueprints of the DAA-1 to make your own, or purchase them own from United States manufacturers at USD 5,500 per vehicle. We hope that this will satisfy your initial needs.
3.Congress is now debating a Hogsweatian Aid Act, which will budget 10 billion dollars a years for 20 years for the purchase of electric and household devices for Hogsweatians, on the condition that they be bought from Allanean suppliers.
4.We would also wish to establish an embassy in Hogsweatia, guarded by 20 Allanean Marines. We hope that this is acceptable.

Thank you and good luck.
Your friends from Allanea.

The Socialist Federation had long looked upon the ruins of what had once been the Hogsweat with a sense of wonder and horror. The towns on Lin-Pen's western border had done a small trade in relics from the wreck of the once mighty state, and many studies by the university at Tian'an had been done on the effect of nuclear holocaust on the natural enviroment.
Recently satellites overpassing Haven had spotted the massive activity on the former Hogsweatian coast, the Cheifs at ASIA had thought nothing of it, merely another group of refugees in this mad world trying to find a place to live.

Now this statement by the 'New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat' announcing it's presecnce to the world. ASIA had a full investigation and discovered that their claims where authentic and that these really were the survivors of disaster that was Hogsweat.

The Prime Minister at once issued a reply to the Hogsweatians:

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Communique to the people of the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat


Greetings friends, long have we looked at the shattered body of your once great land and we are greatly suprised and pleased that you have returned to your native land and that we will be able to call your great people neighbours.

The Socialist Federation of Ato-Sara hereby officially recognizes your nation and will happily provide you with whatever asisstance you require.
Convoys of Aid shall leave the Federation within a week to bring supplies and trade to your people.

As for expatriate Hogsweatians returning to Hogsweat they are free to do so and can still retain their Ato-Saran citizenship. I believe that there is quite a sizable population of Hogsweations, whose ancestors fled east to escape the firey destruction of their homeland, living in Lin Pen.

We hope that the future is bright for co-operation between our two countries and would welcome a Hogsweatian Embassy in Quanoi in exchange for an Ato-Saran one in Dorsalgrad.

Faithfully,

Juo Doc Chai,
Prime Minister of Ato-Sara

--------------------------------------------------------------------------



Natalya Yun looked at the peice of paper in her hand, around her the bustling activity of the Tian' an university complex cotinued, but to her it all seemed in slow motion as all her attention was on the single peice of paper. Many others identical to it had been circulated around the sizeable Hogsweatian expat community in Ato-Sara. It was copy of General Dytrenov's statement to the world,declaring that Hogsweat was back again.
Hogsweat, her grandparents had told of that ancient land, of the fire and death they had escaped in it's nuclear destruction, the beautiful vistas of snow covered forests and the love for Comrade Dorsal. When she was a small girl they had sat her on their knees and told her of the stories from their homeland and of the terrifying escape through the broken wasteland.
She had grown up dreaming of being in the almost fantasy land described by her grandpearents, her mother however wanted nothing to do with her heritage and frowned upon her daydreams and had pushed her to become a sucessful student (The top in her class at the Tian' an university, studying engineering and particle physics).
Eventyually her grandparents died of cancer, most definately from the massively high amounts of radiation they were exposed to during the destruction, and she lost touch with her heritage as she became consumed by her studies. But now she had finished her course and Hogsweatia was back.
She let the leaflet drop out of her hand and onto the grass of the ornamental garden. Looking around she knew what she wanted to do, Ato-Sara was a beautiful country with many opportunities for someone of her talents, but she felt Hogsweat calling her.

[OOC: Guys - another thing (that Ato Sara picked up O.o) I need is international recognition. A fledgling state is nothing without major powers recognising it is a real country!]

Accidnetally posted this OOC part, better post coming soon.

To the government of Hogsweatia -
We know of your former glory only by reputation, yet have been informed that you were a source of strength for the liberal nations of the world before... before what happened. We, too, were once a powerful nation before our own Collapse; although ours - fortunately - was much less destructive to our own nation, it did bring down the American government and left us, The Beltway, in its place.
We hereby extend full diplomatic relations with your nation, and wish to set up a legation in your capital. Ten people will comprise the legation, which will represent the interests of The Beltway in Hogsweatia. If you wish to reciprocate, contact our Foreign Ministry here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=464604). Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Prime Minister Timothy Kaine of the Provisional Republic of The Beltway

..::Open Diplomatic Communique::..

The Imperium welcomes the Hogsweatian people back to Haven. Obviously, we are prepared to render any aid to the reborn mainland and its people, at least insofar as the civilian side of things goes. As well, the Imperium recognizes the Hogsweatian domain over its former and newly reclaimed mainland; a recognition that will immediately be noted by the Imperial Cartogophy and Servey Service.

However, given past relations, the Imperium regrets to inform the Hogsweatian government that until a sincere desire for peaceful relations is demonstrated, the Imperium will not directly contribute, or allow companies within the Imperium to contribute, aid to the Hogsweatian military establishment. Further, the Imperium will retain possession of several former Hogsweatian colonies that were invaded and successfully taken in the wake of the Hogsweatian Navy's attack on civilian targets. Reasons are many, however the two most important are the fact that the people in the former colonies have full representation within the Imperial Senate and that little, if any, Hogsweatian influence remains within the culture and ethnicity of the former Hogsweat colonies.

Hogsweat...

Wait... they're the guys that nuked themselves. Right. Right. Real smart of them. Oh well, blaming the victim wouldn't do, as they were the only victims really. What now then.... Hmm... they came back huh?

Ok. Well, first thing's first, they need to know that MassPwnage recognized that they came back. It seemed rather redundant, but possession isn't really 9/10ths of the law, especially if the law doesn't recognize said possession.

~*~*~*~

From: MassPwnage
To: Hogsweat
Re: Recognition

Well, you're back. Anyway, to make thing simple, MassPwnage recognizes your government as the official government of Hogsweat. Also, we suggest that you check your national bank account. We took the liberty of sending you a trillion Coin (worth roughly $2.5 Trillion) aid package. Consider it to be an early present for whatever major commercial holiday(s) you all celebrate.

Good luck, and please, please make sure you secure your nuclear arsenal this time around.

~*~*~*~*

What else did they need? Food? They said they had food. Water? Hmm... their groundwater supplies were probably poisoned by radiation. Water would be something good to send. And what else? Hmm... what makes the world go round?

Oil.

Yup. Oil.

~*~*~*~

Pwnage cargo ships began arriving day by day in Hogsweatian ports, delivering bottled water and barrels of crude oil. Before that, groups of skilled workers of all sorts, doctors, scientists, engineers many of them Hogsweatian descendants, arrived. They would direct the large influx of immigrants in rebuilding their nation and try to make Hogsweat a decently liveable place... But supplies had to be delievered in bulk. Hogsweat had no ports, so while one was being built, the Pwnage naval engineering vessels threw down a floating dockyard so that ships could unload their cargo. Unloading the ships was slow, goods had to be delivered to shore by helicopter and small boats. Eventually, as something resembling a port began to take shape, goods could be unloaded directly.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/velkya.jpg

From: Grand Senate of the Allied Union of Velkya
To: New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat

The Allied Union of Velkya cordially welcomes the great nation of Hogsweat back unto the world stage, and herby recognizes their sovereign rule of their homeland. As your nation is still budding and springing back to life, we would like to offer a $500 billion Velkyan Zonar aid package (bout 1.5 trillion USD) which not only includes essentials such as food, fuel, and medicine but ready-made shelters, water purification centers, and airstrips similar to designs currently used by the Allied Union's military. We would also offer the security of Task Force Yellow, headed by the Eagle Class super carriers Questeria and Allanea, along with twenty other warships, to ensure the security of the Hogsweatian mainland against those who would seek to do it harm in it's time of vulnerability and need. Further supplies, be them military or infrastructural, are available to be sent to Hogsweat upon further request.

Thank you, and welcome back.

Freedom isn't free!

-End Transmission-

The Off-White House, 227 Capitol Plaza, Darmetz, Mauvasia. 0730 hours.

"Bloody rain," Jonathan Jacobi muttered under his breath, sitting down at his desk and staring morosely at the piles of papers that had been regurgitated from the vast Mauvasian bureaucratic machine during the night. Outside it was raining heavily, no rarity in Mauvasia, but it suddenly annoyed Jacobi for no obvious reason. He was in a bad mood today, and the work in front of him had never seemed so unwelcoming.

With a sigh, the President of the Imperial Republic picked up a paper, stared at it for a moment, and threw it down in disgust. Stamping it "Department of State", he pushed it into a slot near his desk for the Mail Room downstairs to sort it. He looked around at the messy piles—Jacobi was a neat freak, and this annoyed him—and selected another folder arbitrarily, taking only a cursory glance over the contents before stamping it "Department of Defence" and discarding it down the receptacle. In principle none of this was supposed to reach him, instead being delivered to the appropriate department.

At that moment a slot behind him opened, depositing yet another paper on his desk. Jacobi cursed it heartily and slitted open the envelope marked "Urgent", expecting it to require yet another redirect. Then his expression changed entirely.

Within a few minutes, Jacobi was humming a little tune as he typed rapidly with practised fingers, his will to work restored. These were moments he lived for... while not ranked quite so high as the day he stood in Dûriandor Harbour watching the MIRS Foxhound's triumphant return from Czardas, or his first meeting with his Senior Vice President... it was perhaps the next best thing.

Once the message was finished, Jacobi printed it out, stamped on the Mauvasian Coat of Arms, signed the message, and faxed it directly to New Hogsweat...

http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y57/Mauvasia/coat_of_arms.jpg
Official Communiqué, Imperial Republican Government
Encryption: None
To: Hogsweat, New Democratic Republic of

On behalf of all Mauvasia today, I wish to welcome the Hogsweatian people back to Haven and the International Community. While Mauvasia never had any formal contact with Hogsweat, nor do any Hogsweatian nationals reside within Mauvasia, I wish to rectify that obvious mistake by extending the hand of friendship to the New Hogsweatian Republic.

Mauvasia hereby recognises the New Democratic Republic as the legitimate government of Hogsweat, as per the conditions of the Havenic Government Act (revised) of 1994. Mauvasia also wishes to offer an aid package of 500 billion Universal Standard Dollars (?679 billion) to help rebuild the Hogsweatian economy. In terms of civic technology, we will send advanced farming equipment, capable of producing crops in irradiated soil by utilising "radiation-eating" bacteria; details are on the attached sheet. We will send transport planes carrying several hundred tons of food and water; enough stores to feed the current population for a month in case of emergency.

[Encryption: 2XI49/3AW]

Regarding military technology, while I am only in favour of utilising force when all other avenues have failed, I recognise a possible Hogsweatian need for military technology in the future. In case you should ever be in need of them, therefore, Mauvasia has large stores of over 15,000 old fighter and bomber aircrafts, mainly F/A-22s, MiG-35s, B-2s, A-10s, and F-35s. We ourselves have little need for them now, and hope that we will not require them in the future; therefore, if New Hogsweat requires any of these, we shall be happy to fly them over to Hogsweatian airfields.

[End Encryption.]

I also wish to extend the invitation to establish an embassy in Darmetz, capital of Mauvasia, and with your permission we would be honoured to do likewise in New Hogsweat.

For Peace, Prosperity, and the Greater Good;

[signed]Jonathan Jacobi
President of the Republic

[OOC: I'd rather if people didn't delpoy military assets - because I'm planning something, thanks!]

General Dytrenov and his comrade, Alexei Sturmov, a civic engineer responsible for Hogsweatias electricity and roadlaying, stood alongside the airport as the next plane touched down, its engines winding to a stop. Dytrenov and Sturmov had personallywelcomed every single expat since the process began last week, and as night came around they were preparing to stop as the last aeroplane of the night came in. Its engines twirling to a halt Sturmov and Dytrenov walked up to the steps of the aircraft. He gave a broad grin to the first person who left the plane, a young woman in her early twenties (Ato Sara :P) and saluted rather sloppily- he was, after all, quite tired and it was painstakingly obvious from his eyes.

'Welcome back to Hogsweat, comrade!'

In the background of the aircraft, the stars shined against the settlement of Dev Hogevra and its quiet homes and streets. In the distance the silhouette of a chinook carrying lumber glared against the consistently black outlines of ships moored off the coast.

An army NCO led the Hogsweatians off the plane and to temporary residence where they would spend the night before, the next day, being assigned to jobs and places of permanent residence and begin a new life as a Hogsweatian.

Dytrenov sighed and gave a gasp of relief as he walked away with Sturmov, the plane preparing to refuel and then dock for the night before setting off back to Ato Sara the next day.

'One week down..'

'Fifty nine to go!' Sturmov replied enthusiastically. Dytrenov just groaned.

They stopped at the edge of the airfield next to the jeep. Squinting into the long, flat distance inland, over the city of Dorsalgrad, they were both silent.

'My God. This place.. it used to be snow. Can you imagine that? Metres of snow.'

Sturmov replied 'And now..' he needn't say anything else. The 'saltlands' as they had been termed, were simply that: flat and salted. There was a little grass, and it was mostly light. The entire land was desert: it wasn't hot, it wasn't sandy. It was cold, hard, desert. It was almost frightening. For many, it was. Very little, if nothing, would grow in these lands again.

'We must restore it.' Dytrenov whispered. 'If it is the last thing I do, I will do it.'

Sturmov nodded. 'The city...' They both looked over the city, the crumbled mess that used to be a home for over 140 million people. Skyscrapers of huge office complexes and funnels of great smelteries and factories used to stretch hundreds of metres into the sky, planes used to fly forth to defend the land, and ships powered their shafts for the first time in the huge dockyards of Dorsalgrad. Yet the only really remianing building - if you could call it that - was the 300ft tall stainless steel monument to Comrade Dorsal that faced outwards to the seas with the inscription 'Comrade Dorsal brings only light.'

Some light.

Political Statement
Firstly, the Interim Government of the New Democratic Republic gratefully thanks the nations of Skinny 87, Ato Sara, Allanea, the Beltway, Scandavian States, and MassPwnage, Velkya, and Mauvasia for their recognition of our sovereignty. Even more so we thank you for the massive support given to our fledgling nation by those we can only consider good friends. The amount of support for our new state is simply amazing and again we thank you all for your contributions which will be put to good use.

Secondly, the influx is of Hogsweatians who feel patriotic enough to return to their homeland a hundred years after evacuation is truly heartwarming. We thank your governments for allowing such passage for our people and at this time it is clear who our friends are.

It should be noted that the Hogsweatian government formally apologises for our past aggressiveness to the Scandavian States and we hope we can put what was a terrible past behind us and work together for a brighter future.

[OOC: Post regarding what Im putting all the stuff to use for is coming tomorow.]
I find this ironic:P (http://img228.imageshack.us/img228/8241/screenshot4607se.jpg)

bumpbump

[OOC: Hog, should I retcon my DPM's arrival at the Hive because I couldn't continue due to RL concerns?]

[OOC: Retcon the entire thing. This is much more fun.]

Official Statement

"The Realm of Cotland officially recognizes the rise of Hogsweat and its new government, and wishes to congratulate Hogswetians all over the world in the discovery of their long lost homeland. We wish to help Hogsweat rise again in this world, and we have therefore assembled an economic aid package of $1,25 trillion USD. In addition, we have a number of older Rothsky class destroyers and F-16C Falcon fighter jets which we can transfer free of charge to Hogsweat, should they so wish. Welcome back Hogsweat."

[signed]
Office of the Prime Minister
The Realm of Cotland

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v419/msarzo/GreatSeal.jpg
Official Statement
Incorporated Sarzonian Government

It is with great rejoicing that the Incorporated Sarzonian Government announces its official recognition of the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat as the legitimate representation of the return of the people of Hogsweat after their long absence from the international stage.

We hope to point to the nation of Hogsweat in the future as a manifestation of the positives of a people who have pulled themselves out of the throes of tragedy, even if it is self-inflicted, and have come together as one people, one nation, indivisible. We gratefully applaud their return and wish to begin a long-delayed process of restoring diplomatic ties that my government began many years ago but were never able to fulfill before the tragic loss of the original nation.

Please accept my and the First Partner's personal congratulations on your renaissance!

Mike Sarzo
President
Incorporated States of Sarzonia

Cars from Allanea, water oil and engineers from MassPwnage, anti irradiation material from Mauvasia, and so much money the government didnt know what to do with it. The budding state was beginning to grow and expand as the sixth month set a half a million record. The money was invested in the purchase of goods and infrastructure, namely large amounts of steel and other construction materials, especially mortar and cement, that were loaded in from several semi functioning dockyards in Dorsalgrad and transported to the neccessery places by large truck and chinook missions.

But not all looked upon the new Hogsweatian state with sympathetic eyes. Hogsweatian strategic nuclear doctrine was based upon using many weapons on a single city to entirely obliterate it of life: this, thus, left 'gaps' in destroyed areas. Of course, life would never be the same anywhere in Hogsweat, but that didn't mean that life could flourish. The destruction of Hogsweats national power grid, the contamination of its water supplies, and the loss of communication with outside powers led the people who lived in Hogsweat - and those who lived outside it - to believe that noone was alive. In fact, this was not true. Giant mounds of destroyed turf, pushed up from decades of mutated soil growth, forced millions of 'alive' Hogsweatians to take residence underground, where their primary food source was, to the disgust of future historians, cannibalism and more importantly, the selective breeding of certain animals to be slaughtered and eaten. A barbaric society of a kind never heard of before was established when all modes of modern existence collapsed. Rape, robbery, and murder were not uncommon in the scores of native settlements. Most 'surgery' was primitive and performed by witch doctors - the average life expectency was almost 30 years, at best.

The people, were, however, not entirely stupid. They knew the lay of the land, and they had noticed the buildup of foreigners over the six months. The natives who were in charge - self pronounced kings of pagan religions and bloody and corrupt dictators had decided that those who made advances on their land with 'metal birds' and 'metal, smoking, rabbits' and their modern technology that native Hogsweatians had no clue how to operate. They did know one thing however - and that was how, and when, to make war. It is a trait of a Hogsweatian that when it comes to international politics they are naturally aggressive. Internal politics were no different. As such, the leaders of five different autonomous settlements decided that enough was enough. Together, they would drive the newcomers from their land.

Dev Hogevra, 09:34

'Morning!' Tatyusa smiled enthusiastically as she tossed the pancakes from the cheap frying pan that had been distributed the night before.

'...Morning' Yatza replied drowsily as he sat down at the salvaged kitchen table and absent mindedly poured milk into an ash tray.

'You came back late last night.' she said.

'Uh huh.. they had to shift a batch of vehicles from the docks over here, and since there were no other pilots awake...'

'Oh well. I guess we all have to pull our weight!' she replied happily, plonking a plate of pancakes down in front of the sleepless pilot.

You would say that... after all, teachers do have fixed hour jobs.. Yatza thought.

She kissed him on the cheek gently. 'I'll see you later.' Tatyusa left the house, whistling an old folk tune on her way to the school. Yatza sighed, took a bite of pancake, and looked at the time.

He had to be at work in two hours. Closing his eyes and leaning back, his busy yet tranquil world was suddenly shattered by the roar of long ranged artillery and the wail of alarm sirens.

Outside Dev Hogevra
The artillery guns of the Native Hogsweatians roared their first shells in years. The long ranged 205mm dual barrel guns had been dragged into position by ancient motors that required some huge form of biomass to propell themselves and were extremely unreliable, yet they were usable, as the natives had demonstrated in their many wars. The operation began from the north of Dev Hogevra, bombarding the outskirts and some shells landing further in. Very few people were killed but minutes later ten thousand native infantrymen began their assault on the small defensive positions alongside the north section of Dev Hogevra.

Not expecting an attack and assuming their allies would back them up, resistance was limited only in the form of sandbagged machine gun emplacements and recoil-less guns. Forced forwards by 'politicla officers' the surge of conscripts armed with little more than a bolt action rifle and a few magazines almost overwhelmed the first defensive lines.

Minutes later, Yatza was running down the streets to find a car that would take him to the airfield. Sirens wailed and soldiers ran down the streets as artillery fire became more accurate. Yatza shielded his eyes as a pair of shells smashed into an auxiliary power transfer, sending it up in bright flames.

At the frontline, Anton Demetrov cowered behind a concrete wall as bullets zipped over his head. His unit had taken horrendous casualties from artillery fire and the enemy were advancing fast. He had been taken by surprise. When the enemy artillery was sighted his commander set out a hail but the response was gunfire - and then, the masses of ... soldiers charging, ragged banners flapping as the massed formations took bullet after bullet. Demetrov was scared. He was not a profesional soldier, he was not a career soldier - he had little skills and so had volunteered in the defence force, expecting to be moving crates and supplies, not fighting battles without knowing who his enemy was! Demetrov looked around him - the wall had been blown apart in places, and around him his dead comrades were scattered. They didn't even know what hit them, the poor bastards. He could hear them behind the wall, talking in some unknown language. Why was this world so full of hate? Tears were dripping down his eyes. Cocking his bren gun, Demetrov shifted the barrel over to the gap in the wall, his left hand holding the trigger and the gun leaning on his right, against the wall, the strap over his shoulder. He had maybe three, four hours experience firing his weapon. Gulping as he saw the first man come round the corner, he got a glimpse of the red battle dress with the dark grey trousers and the long matted hair, and the devilish look in the attackers face. Six more of them piled in and as soon as they saw him, Demetrov held down the trigger furiously. The sound of gunshots and ejecting cases filled the air and the blood spurted onto the wall as the attackers fell into a crumpled heap. Demetrov blinked and then despair filled him as more and more of the assailants turned the corner, aiming their rifles at him.

They were cut apart by minigun fire.

Demetrov opened his eyes and looked above him where a Merlin with an underslung 20mm autocannon was hovering above the wall spraying the outer saltlands with autocannon fire. Demetrov watched as three more helicopters hovered over the buildings, their autocannons cutting down swathes of the native troops, untrained and unexperienced. Their rifles were innacurate and simply not powerful enough, and the HELOs glided like angels of death over the battlefield, massacring the enemy troops with impunity as they turned and ran.

The North Wall was bloodied. The suburbs were burning. There was panic and fire. But the New Republic had got its first taste of battle and it had won.

[OOC: sorry guys, I've spent the last three hours writing this post (on and off) and I just discovered the new posts :P]

The Grand Basiclica of Galathilion
Seat of Power of the Xirniumite Supreme Parliament
Naerath, Capital of Holy Xirnium

Ameas Vernius, Defence Minister of the Eternal Republic, was in a foul mood. His footsteps against the highly-polished, marbled floor echoed loudly throughout the cavernous expanse of one of Parliament’s many lobbies. Looking up briefly, the Defence Minister caught a momentary glimpse of the elaborately exquisite, gothic vaulted ceiling which towered high above him, its intricately-carved arched masonry structure spanning the top of the hall.

Coughing a little from the exertion, Vernius searched inside the dark folds of his long, maroon cloak for a small plastic container which contained the medication that he required for his chronic heart condition - a cocktail of vasodilator agents, positive inotropes, ACE inhibitors and beta blockers. In his advanced age (Lord Vernius was well into his late seventies), Ameas’ heart problem had become steadily more troubling, despite the finest efforts of his physicians. Swallowing the bitter and brightly coloured capsules with a dry gulp, the Defence Minister took a deep breath and smiled grimly, permitting his mood to improve ever so slightly.

Ameas had just endured several hours of heckling, criticism and attacks from his adversaries. He had just come from Question Time.

I suppose it’s all in an afternoon’s work, after all, thought Vernius sanguinely.

‘Minister Vernius, there you are. Come from Question Time, I presume?’ asked a man whom the Defence Minister instantly recognised as Nigel Thomas, the Departmental Secretary of the Foreign Ministry (and therefore head of its bureaucracy, the Senior Executive). ‘May I speak with you for a moment?’

‘Certainly, Mr Thomas,’ replied the Defence Minister with a friendly smile, stopping beside one of the numerous massive and ornate pillars which were positioned at regular intervals throughout the enormous lobby. Lord Vernius was curious to see what this could all be about.

The civil servant handed Ameas a manila folder neatly marked with the words “Current Hogsweatian Situation”. Lord Vernius quickly leafed through its contents. Curious, indeed!

‘Has the Foreign Minister has been informed?’ asked Lord Vernius parenthetically as he skimmed through the pages.

‘Of course,’ replied Nigel. ‘Lady Gilda was notified earlier this morning during one of the breaks at the foreign conference she is attending.’

‘The Soviet Union of Hogsweat engaged in hostilities with Holy Xirnium in the past,’ noted Ameas thoughtfully, closing the folder as he finished reading. ‘During the administration of Premier Maykov, if I remember correctly.’

‘That was quite a long time ago,’ pointed out the Departmental Secretary.

‘Indeed, it was. A Hogsweatian nation has not existed for over a hundred years. I’m sure that any differences Xirnium may once have had with the progenitor of this new colony can remain firmly in the past. Certainly any previous issues between our States were settled conclusively in the atomic fire that annihilated their civilisation.

Hogsweat is dead, and Xirnium remains - eternally strong. This successor state, even if it becomes all it might possibly one day be, will remain nothing but a faint shadow of its lost heritage.’

‘What, if anything, should the Xirniumite government’s response be to this founding? Will the High Ecclesiarchy extend formal recognition of this Hogsweatian successor state?’ asked Nigel. No doubt Mr Thomas' superior, the Foreign Minister, would be transmitting back the answer to precisely that question, perhaps even as they spoke.

Before the Defence Minister could reply he was interrupted by the arrival of Victoria Seriende, the newly appointed Head of State of the Eternal Republic. Clothed in an elegant, shimmering dark indigo-coloured gown, the Viceregal Head of State was a remarkably attractive woman aged in her mid thirties, with enchanting deep blue eyes and long, wavy black hair. Vernius personally held grave doubts about the usefulness of this newest Constitutional experiment that the High Ecclesiarchy had embarked on (the Vicereine’s post had only recently been formed, with the intention of creating a Head of State for ceremonial purposes), but was willing to give Lady Seriende the benefit of the doubt – for now, at least.

‘Ahh, Vicereine,’ the Defence Minister called smoothly. ‘A most interesting situation has developed that you might like to hear about.’ Victoria quietly dismissed her aide and came over to the two men, as Lord Vernius proceeded to explain what had happened.

‘Will the High Ecclesiarchy recognise this settlement in Hogsweat as a sovereign state?’ asked the Vicereine, mildly surprised at the latest developments. Victoria absentmindedly tugged at the collar of her lovely gown as she turned over the various implications of what had happened in her mind.

‘I think not, Lady Seriende, at least not yet,’ replied Ameas. ‘I see absolutely no reason to recognise a state founded by some General…’ Vernius checked his notes again, ‘a Mr Dytrenov, as it were, merely because he claims to have founded a successor state to the former Soviet Hogsweat.

However, it would not appear proper for the Xirniumite Parliament to remain completely silent on this matter, so we must make some kind of statement.’

‘A statement from the High Ecclesiarchy to this faction might be considered an endorsement or legal recognition of the new colony that the Hogsweatian diaspora have established,’ cautioned Mr Thomas.

‘Precisely. That is why I think that you, Vicereine, should make the announcement,’ explained Lord Vernius. ‘As you are a non-Executory Head of State, you are also therefore legally not a member of the Xirniumite Government. Hence, you would be the ideal person to make declarations of this kind.’

‘But what would I say?’

‘Ohh, something non-committal… something entirely neutral. Expressions of hope, mutterings of good wishes. That kind of thing.

We will have to check with the Foreign Minister, of course, but provided that she approves we should make the declaration as soon as possible.’

___________________________________________

http://i40.photobucket.com/albums/e221/Xirnium/arms3.gif
Official Viceregal Edict, Office of the Vicereine
The Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium

Ad Vitam Aeternam! – For All Time!

To: The International Community and the Hogsweatian Diaspora

From: Ms Victoria Seriende
Vicereine
The Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium

As Viceregal Head of State of the Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium, I note, with both great hope and boundless optimism, the brave and worthy struggle of the Hogsweatian people. The continued efforts of the diaspora of Hogsweat to reclaim their collective destiny from amongst the shattered remains of their lost civilisation are an inspiration to us all.

The calamity that befell the former nation of Hogsweat was a terrible tragedy for which the entire world wept as one, and which history shall not soon forget. We can place our trust, however, in the indomitable courage and noble spirit of the Hogsweatian people to regain the self-determination which is their inherent right. I wish the Hogsweatian diaspora, on behalf of the people of Xirnium, the best of luck.

[Signed]

Her Excellency
Lady Victoria Seriende
Vicereine and Head of State
The Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium

http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/DMG-large.gif
Official Communiqué

To: General Dytrenov,
The New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat
From: Vincent Alexander X,
Dominion Secretary of State

Greetings,
It has been too long since our people have last had formal communication. I believe the last time was some time after the terrible disaster that shook your nation's foundations. However, I and every other citizen of DMG are glad to see of your fortitude and healthy return to your Motherland.

At this time, in a public and international statement, we are proud to officially recognize the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweat in all its former glory. To further a relationship between our nations, I ask the honor and right of exchanging embassies so that we may better communicate in the future. We completely understand that the building of an embassy at this time may be too much of an unnecessary burden, which is why we are completely understanding and willing to wait for a better time - though I also offer to send a team of contractors and supplies to build it for you. Also, I have dispatched a fleet of twenty heavy haul aircraft to drop humanitarian supplies in Hogsweat - I hope they may help your population.

After the terrible incident which occurred so long ago, we opened our doors to all Hogsweatian citizens that needed a place to call home. While only a limited number came to accept our offer, a few did and have been living in DMG for quite some time now. When we heard of this great news, we immediately alerted each and every citizen that has some Hogsweatian ancestor. They are being given an adequate amount of monetary aid to add to a fair exchange for their property, and free transportation to the New Democratic Republic - if they want to leave. However, they will also have Dominion citizenship for life should they ever wish to return.

I have also spoken to Supreme Allied Commander Malcolm Granger III and he in turn spoke to Mar'ki Ticron, the CEO of DMG Military Industries. He has agreed to give you a small line of credit and some old models of tanks and aircraft.

Sincerely,
[signed] Count Vincent Alexander III
Secretary of State - Dominion of DMG
On Behalf of the Supreme Ruler

DEMOCRATIC SOVIET REPUBLIC OF KAHANISTAN
Ministry of Foreign Affairs

The Government of Kahanistan grants diplomatic recognition to the new Government of Hogsweat, and has already dispatched a fleet of 50 humanitarian ships.

The ships carry building materials, nuclear reactor plans (the reactors will be built several hundred meters below ground, as our own are, so they will not cause serious damage in the event of a meltdown and are less vulnerable to airstrikes), medical supplies, and food in the form of compact military rations.

Due to recent and current wars, we regret that we can only contribute half a trillion USD to your rebuilding.

Signed,
Margaret Delray,
Minister of Foreign Affairs

The Kahanistanian fleet arrived at Hogsweat. While the Kahanistanian aid workers initially distrusted some of the other nationals, especially those who had fought them before, they left their hostilities at home. This was a world mission, one that transcended ideologies in order to rebuild an unfortunately destroyed nation. It could only succeed if differences were shelved at the beginning.

Confederation of Praetonian Industry HQ, Guildhall Square

"Item 5: The Recent Developments in Hogsweatia. Any thoughts, gentlemen?" Demanded the Governor-General, looking up from the agenda sheet, which was printed on gilt paper.

"A developing country which has recently received a massive amount of money, Director-General, is always a golden oppurtunity, no pun intended, and I believe it is obvious that we should leap on it," replied one of the younger Directors of the Confederation, the Managing Director of Royal Ports Ltd.

"I agree, Director-General, but do we not also have problems attached? I have heard numerous reports of attacks by their native peoples - feral beasts by all accounts - and that could present serious problems. Getting anything up and running in Hogsweatia will need a lot of time and a lot of money, and if all that just goes up in smoke..." another Director, a slightly older man, tailed off.

The Director-General nodded. "I think it is important that we are able to protect our interests in Hogsweatia. I have applied to His Majesty... and I have received this..." He pushed a piece of thick paper, almost parchment, gilt with real gold and heavily watermarked. It had a thick parchment cover, upon which the King's seal had been pressed in hot wax and then overlayed with gold leaf.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/Bond.png

"...it should hopefully allow us to take steps to further our own interests, should the Government choose not to or not be allowed to help out militarily in Hogsweatia. If, of course, the Hogsweatians are not capable of it themselves." He smiled, indicating that he had little real faith in the Hogsweatian army, but that he would reserve his judgement until he had seen what they did, "Further, I propose that we use this to create a Joint Stock Company which will allow us to centralise our interests in Hogsweatia. Once our foothold is more firmly secure, we can split up the Company or keep it together as the market demands."

The other directors murmured their agreement, nodding their heads and exchanging quick remarks of approval with each other. Each man wore a black cocked hat rimmed with gold string and topped with a silver plume. The Director-General's plume was gold. It wasn't an official uniform, but it confered a great deal of gravitas to the Directors who had skillfully crafted their own privately-owned Empire.

Just Outside Hogsweatian Territorial Waters

"Goodluck, Mr Ambassador," said the Captain, cheerfully, as he waved the boat off.

"Many thanks!" Shouted back the Ambassador, tucking his plumed hat under his arm. The destroyer would remain outside of Hogsweatian territorial waters, as the Government had decided that stationing it inside would have sent out a message that Hogsweatia could not survive on its own, which was undesireable.

Aboard a small Grenadier Class vessel, although heavily armed for its size, the Ambassador and his party of staff and marines were exposed. The Ambassador shivered. It was cold and the wind was biting.

"Don't you want to come inside, sir?" Asked the Marine Captain, gesturing into the warm, dry cabin of the boat.

"No... I'll stay up here Captain, if you don't mind." The question was, of course, rhetorical and the Captain quickly saluted and beat a retreat.

This boat and the make-shift embassy it would form whilst Noble & Sons' plc. constructed a suitable edifice within the new Hogsweatian capital to house were just the vanguard. Praetonian money was pouring into the country. A Praetonian company, for example, had begun planning the construction of a huge desalinisation and water purification plant on the Hogsweatian coast. Other Praetonian companies were scrambling to win construction contracts. Many more were setting up branches and subsidiaries in the new nation.

Ambassador Henry Wolfingham sat down on the cold metal turret of the vessel's 105mm howitzer. The vessel's powerful COGAG engine rumbled beneath his feet. There were also the internal security problems. The Hogsweatians had been running into trouble with the country's near-feral native populace, by all accounts and that couldn't do. It was bad for business.

Dev Hogevra

'Look, just be careful, okay.' Tatyusa reasoned.

'Obviously. I'm not trying to commit suicide here. I'm just doing my job' Yatza replied.

Tatyusa put on her best worried face. 'If..'

'Look, I'll be fine.' Yatza said kissing her quickly. 'I have to go now, my unit is waiting. Don't worry!'

Tatyusa watched as the entourage of military personnel left the waterside and, piling into trucks, drove off to their assigned posts. Looking up to the city, she could see explosions ripping apart houses and illuminating the night sky. Helicopters flew over ruined buildings, their autocannons chopping down waves of infantry.

'Alright, next up, women and children only? Yes, onboard.'

'Leaving so soon..' She said to the boatman who had just pulled his boat up alongside the little jetty.

'Don't worry love. We'll be back soon.' He looked over the city as more and more flashes lit up the twilight, tracer ripping through the deadly painting of death. 'I think.'

Dytrenov almost fell over as an artillery shell struck the makeshift bunker on the airfield. Only sixty metres outside his beleagured troops were battling the oncoming hordes of badly trained yet ruthless enemies. Holding onto the concrete sidewalk as he trotted down the stairs, Dytrenov faced the military council: his subordinates and second in command, a Colonel Kerr, plotting around a map.

'What the HELL?' Dytrenov swore.

'Hm?' Kerr looked up.

'Our troops are dying out there.' Dytrenov looked at the colonel angrily. 'And you are standing, in here, looking at some map!'

'It hardly matters.' Kerr looked up and said, in that sort of matter of fact way.

'Oh? Really? And are the tanks rolling in about to save us now?'

'Well.' Kerr said. 'We've agreed the only way is to pull out.'

Dytrenov just looked at him. 'WHAT?'

'We can't hold his city against odds of 10 to 1. Its the only tactical, and strategic possibilty' Kerr stated.

'No. We are not pulling out of this now, we are not leaving our dead behind to these.. monsters. We will defend this sacred site, and we will defend it to the last drop of blood.'

Kerr looked down his nose at the General. 'I see. Well, General, you can stay here if you like. The officer corp stands with my decision.'

'Oh really?' Dytrenov said, watching as several officers began to look away, ashamed at the whole idea. 'Colonel Kerr of the Hogsweatian Penal Army' Dytrenov began.

'Wait, what?'

'I hereby declare you to be found wanting and the punishment to be executed immediately.' Dytrenov withdrew his .303 service revolver and pointed it towards Kerr.

'You are a fool.' Were the last words of the colonel before the bullet went straight through his head, smashing his brain into several pieces and sending blood and matter across the room. Kerr hit the ground, brain matter and blood leaking out onto the floor, staining his now dishevelled clothes.

'If you want to die with honour, die defending our traditions, then follow me' The General said. Seconds later, the twelve or so officers of the remnants of the Hogsweatian High Command were donning helmets and loading rifles.

Tracer fire slashed across the length of the airfield, sending a fuel drum up in flames, setting alight a hangar which was smashed in by artillery shells. Incendaries had been fired or set off all around the airfield and now the 205mm shells were raining down onto the beleagured defenders.

Fared pulled back the bolt on his mounted machine gun, wincing as the cold metal slammed against his shoulder. Letting rip with the machine gun he cut down a fireteam of the natives that were charging his position so desperately. Fared paused for a minute and wiped his brow. This was not what he had expected on the plane arriving to the New Republic. Still... maybe it was his destiny. Pushing another burst down his ironsights, cutting a pair of soldiers in half, Fared suddenly realised he was the only man defending 10 metres of land. This sudden lapse in concentration put him off balance as a shot into his shoulder sent him spinning. Killing the man who shot him, Fared dropped to the floor as another rifle shot burst his leg open. He cried out in pain, and it was then he heard the shout.

'HOLD YOUR POSITIONS!'

Looking to his left, Fared watched as the Hogsweatian flag flapped in the wind as artillery shells exploded around it and rifle shots punctured its cloth. Holding the flagpole in one hand, his sten submachine gun in the other, General Dytrenov stood on top of a light anti aircraft bunker, shouting to his men while taking potshots at the enemy with his SMG. A new wave of patriotism filled Fared as the smoke drifted over from a burning hangar. Behind him, the settlement burned. Alongside him, his countrymen lay dead or dying. In front of him lay a relentless enemy intent on slaughtering everything they had worked for.

'Comrades, while I speak, heavy guns are almost in range of where our women and children take shelter. The enemy, though we know not his name, is brutal and murderous. Every step you take backwards is a step closer the enemy has to landing shells on our women and children!'

It was a valiant attempt at defending a position with a force outnumbered twenty, maybe thirty to one, but it was bound to fail. Slowly, but surely, the enemy overwhelmed the bitter defences of the airfield and chased the retreating Hogsweatian forces.

Right into the guns of the waiting helicopters and ground based 25mm oerlikons.

The battle that had raged nine hours, beginning from nightfall at 6 PM and had ended with the withdrawal from the airfield at 3 AM, was finally over. Though a precise count was never available, UAVs and spy planes counted maybe ten to fifteen thousand dead natives for only a Hogsweatian headcount of 238. Now the no mans land was a long strip of grass with a single dirt track running from the airfield down into the city, a stretch about two hundred metres long. On the Hogsweatian side, autocannons and massed ranks of automatic rifles and light machine guns defended from a possible native swarm. But each second meant more reinforcements, and worse, the artillery was being repositioned on the airfield itself, easily in range of the docksides.

Fourty minutes after the fall of the airfield, the artillery opened fire again. Several guns were aimed at the waterside, but more importantly, behind and at the Hogsweatian defence line. Any retreat would have to be through an inferno caused by incendiary shells and the pressure of a new advance.

Dytrenov renewed the situation in a small house right next a little fence where the Hogsweatian line lay. Consulting his officers, Dytrenov asked

'How many men do we have left?'

'Approximately eight hundred to a thousand sir, in Dev Hogevra. Twice that in Dorsalgrad.'

'I see. For now, don't move any reinforcements into this city. I have an idea.'

'Sir, if we don't get fresh reinf-'

The meeting was cut short by the deafening roar of screams from the enemy lines. Grabbing his SMG, Dytrenov rushed outside and his eyes widened. More of them.

'How the hell did they...'

They had already replenished their force and over from the airfield the natives charged down the hill towards the once again desperately outnumbered Hogsweatian line.

'Jesus Christ' Dytrenov said. Turning around to see the blaze, he knew he was dead. Surrounded and cut off his troops were outnumbered by the same odds they had faced at the airfield, yet now at close quarters. The oerlikons did their job, but it was not enough. Suddenly, whistles flew past him and the General detected what they were immediately. Explosions tore apart holes in the ranks of the native assault, and not expecting such a fierce retaliation, the natives fell back in force as the tired Hogsweatians marvelled at their lucky escape, inbetween shooting down the occasional native that dared to continue the assault.

The Watersides

The small Praetonian boat passed the two Hogsweatian frigates, watching their dual 114m autocannos pour fire down onto the town relentlessly, only stopping firing to reload or to cool their barrels for a moment. For a minute, it looked like the Praetonians would be ignored, until a hail came out from the stern of one of the warships.

'This is the HS Dorsal Square to unidentified vessel, identify yourself immediately, repeat, this is the Hogsweat Ship Dorsal Square' the man blurted out from his loudspeaker across the waters.

Official Statement by the Prime Minister of the United Sovereign Nations of Southeast Asia, Yao Yang Nelson Neo
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Dear Representatives of the Government of the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweatia,

It is unbelievable, yet so warming to see the return of the Hogsweatian civilization. It is a great rejoicement, that I hereby declare that the Hogsweatian Democratic Republic, to be a legitimate sovereign entity recognized by the United Sovereign Nations of Southeast Asia. Prelude to the devastating nuclear blast which reduced the former Valiant Commonwealth to a smoldering, crater-decorated and irradiated wasteland, the Union of Southeast Asian Nations had no diplomatic relations with Hogsweat. I wish to correct this error due to your renaissance. The Southeast Asian Peacekeeping Corps are to arrive with humanitarian assistance within a few days' time. Should any resources be found in the Hogsweatians' "Promised Land" undamaged by the catastrophic nuclear blast, I would also be honored to formalize trade relations with the New Democratic Republic of Hogsweatia.

And as a final note, please accept my personal congratulations on your successor state, along with my nation's.

Yours Sincerely,
His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership
Yao Yang Nelson Neo
Prime Minister
United Sovereign Nations of Southeast Asia